the hairy eyeball

i was just in the locker room at the gym, changing back into my slacks and tie after my workout. it's a small space, not made for more than 2 or 3 people at a time. this setup should've been fine this morning; there were only three of us in there. one of my least favorite people at hopkins was one of the three, though. mind you, i've never talked to this guy. it's someone that i see probably a few times a week at the shuttle stop or at the gym. his problem--well, i'm not exactly sure what his problem is. he shoots me weirded-out looks whenever i see him. when kel and i are together at the gym, gaying it up as we always do, the looks are even worse: they're coupled with comments to his friends.

whatever. i've dealt with homophobes before. i can't say that i've evolved so far as to be able to pity them--it still really gets under my skin when i'm faced with shit like that. this morning in the locker room it just got ridiculous. every time he removed an article of clothing, he moved from the locker area to the sink area--the farthest away from me he could get. it went like this: move to the sink, take off shirt, put on workout shirt. come back to locker. move to sink, take off socks, put on socks. come back to locker. when i finally infiltrated his lil' safe haven because i needed to put on my tie, he went into the stall and locked it before putting on his workout shorts.

i wanted to look him in the eye and say, very calmly, "look, dude, you're really flattering yourself if you think i'm going to be checking you out." and i don't even say "dude." give me a break, people. if i want to get laid i can get laid--i don't need to stare down nasty (nasty) straight dudes in my locker room.

now hot straight dudes, that's another story.